


For The Love Of Coffee

by teenybirdy



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Don't copy to another site, F/F, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:00:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26213770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenybirdy/pseuds/teenybirdy
Summary: Andy's world shifts when Miranda Priestly walks into her coffee shop. Just what is it about the woman in search of the perfect latte?
Relationships: Miranda Priestly & Andrea Sachs, Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs, Mirandy - Relationship
Comments: 34
Kudos: 337





	For The Love Of Coffee

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JasFiction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JasFiction/gifts).



> So here's a coffee shop AU no one asked for. 
> 
> This is my annual birthday treat to my readers but is given with a massive shoutout to JasFiction, for her unwavering support and friendship.

It was the third time Andy had heard the request for a Triple Venti, no-foam latte, searing hot, as if the requested drink was being made to one of the many Starbucks chains littering New York City.

Curious, she turned her head slightly and caught sight of the woman who had ordered the large, extra-hot, no foam, milky coffee with the extra shot as she hovered beside the counter waiting for her drink.

Her breath caught in her throat. The woman, clearly older than her, if her shimmering silver hair was anything to go by, was simply beautiful. Her hair swept to the side and behind small ears, was perfect except for a stubborn forelock which had her hands aching to tech out and brush it back from her face.

She let her eyes roam, noticed the piercing blue eyes, slightly imperfect crooked nose, and the thin, yet kissable lips that were beginning to purse as she tapped her foot impatiently while her fingers skittered over the screen of her cell phone.

Shaking herself from her sudden inappropriate thoughts about how she wanted to run her hands through the hair and kiss those lips, Andy turned back to the Espresso Machine and continued to prepare the orders she had queueing.

She worked quickly, grinding the fresh beans and distributing the coffee evenly in the portafilter before tamping them down to remove any air pockets and polish the surface of the ground coffee.

After so many years, she had the process down to a fine art, but somehow she still felt joy in the preparation of the perfect coffee.

Rinsing the group head efficiently, she sat the portafilter in its moorings and set the coffee to brew immediately while counting to twenty-five. Removing the cup from the tray, she started steaming milk, extra hot and without aerating it, just as needed, before pouring it at an angle and using a spoon to hold back the froth that couldn't be stopped when using a steam valve. She took two quick scoops of the top to remove any excess.

Nodding once to herself, Andy grabbed the lid and glanced at the docket she had been given. It held just one name, the most beautiful one, as far as she was now concerned.

Grinning she grabbed a lid and scrawled on it before firmly pressing it down onto the cup. "Order up." She called loudly as she turned to place it on the counter carefully. "Miranda." Smiling softly, she watched as the silver-haired woman stepped forward and took the cup in hand. "Careful it's hot." She called out over the din of voices.

**xxx**

Miranda had found the coffee shop almost by accident upon leaving the office of her attorney.

The first time, while her soon-to-be ex-husbands claim he was tired of not being enough for her and changing himself to fit on the outskirts of her life, floated through her mind, she'd come across Morning Kick, due to the sign showing a no-nonsense coffee guide that made her lips twitch up in the semblance of a smile.

Outlined on the board was all the different coffee options; Espresso, Americano, flat white, cappuccino, latte, macchiato, hot chocolate, and tea but each of them had a line through them and besides it was the no-nonsense version; strong coffee, black coffee, white coffee, frothy coffee, milky coffee, milked topped coffee, not coffee and also not coffee.

Now, Morning Kick was somewhere she stopped at before she met with her legal team regarding the divorce from a man she had never truly loved but who had seemed an ideal candidate as a husband and father to her beautiful daughters. She had been quick to learn the marriage was a mistake.

She barely noticed the staff and except for the moment she gave her name and requested her usual Triple Venti, no-foam latte, only for her words to be met with the rolling of eyes from the young African American woman serving, she didn't consider them. The request was written down and placed beside the expresso machine and she knew her order would be called when it was ready.

She kept herself busy while waiting, sending text messages to her assistants and writing emails as she moved from foot to foot, easing the slight ache in her feet, always present from wearing high heels, but easily ignored.

Beauty was pain and she had yet to find a pair of heels, other than her favourite Prada pumps, that didn't leave her feet aching after a couple of hours. But she would always make sacrifices for the sake of fashion. It was her life's work, after all, and the accoutrements she peddled daily at least hid the so-called frumpiness of who she was underneath, at least according to her soon-to-be-ex.

Hearing her name being called, she stepped to the counter, disregarding the soft warning for her to be careful since her drink was hot.

As far as she was concerned, it had better be or heads would roll.

As she walked towards the exit, she glanced down at her cup and stalled. Instead of her name, "You're beautiful." had been written in its place on the lid in a beautiful script.

Glancing back briefly, her eyes met the expressive, dark eyes of a beautiful young woman and she felt a blush spreading across her cheeks. She was offered a wide, warm smile and a cheeky wink before the woman turned her back, easing herself back into the job at hand.

With a new pep in her step, she exited the coffee shop, sighing in pleasure as she sipped the perfect coffee.

Yes, this was somewhere she would revisit, and soon.

**xxx**

Andy sighed and eased herself into a large, comfortable chair by the window. Even in flat shoes, her feet ached after hours stood behind the counter. The fact was, the shop was taking off and she and Doug were thrilled by the increasing business as word spread about their no-nonsense approach to coffee and the friendly, laid-back atmosphere.

If New Yorkers appreciated anything, it was a good cup of joe to kick-start their mornings. Andy could understand their need. When the simple act of leaving your apartment each morning meant you had to step into the hoards of pedestrian traffic it wasn't surprising people needed a jolt of something to kick their ass into gear. And luckily for them, her coffee seemed to be just the thing.

Pulling her old Macbook out, she booted it up and connected to the wifi and continued to write from where she left off the previous day.

 _Today, it may be hard to imagine a cafe in New York City that is not packed with women demanding a non-fat chai latte's and a vegan muffin while working on their laptops, charging their phones, texting their co-workers or_ _even making that all-important call. But coffee houses were once a boys-only club and because women just weren't entitled to go out alone, they didn't._

_The world changed though, thankfully, and women started to stand up for their rights and advocate for themselves in the workplace. It made business people sit back and realise they were missing out on profiting from half the population, those with any brains used the opportunity. But creating a place that appealed to both genders was challenging. Most working men went to the various lunch counters while women went to tea or coffee houses._

_In many ways, it makes perfect sense that it would take a woman to figure out how to market coffee to other women. Alice Foote MacDougall, a socialite born to a wealthy New York family, became the city's first female coffee broker, and ultimately, the creator of the coffee houses for women. She started, after her husband does, by selling waffles for five cents with a free cup of coffee and eventually opened the Little Coffee Shop in Grand Central Terminal in 1919. She struck gold but then, on a trip to Italy, she discovered espresso for which I, and many others, remain eternally grateful._

She sat back and read what she'd written, frowning over the wording before clicking save.

"You should go home, Andy," Doug stated softly, placing a large mug cappuccino beside her hand. "You've been here more than your apartment the last few days"

Andy's fingers fluttered through her bangs. "Nate's here." She explained, nodding towards the front of the cafe as if that explained everything.

Doug sighed and made to sit opposite as Andy's eyes focussed on the front counter, narrowing slightly. He turned and watched an older woman gesticulating wildly.

Her soft, cold and clipped tone rang out. "I asked for no foam and yet there is a profusion of such."

"Ma'am..." Nate tried.

"Miranda." The woman interrupted.

Nate rolled his eyes. "Miranda, a latte is meant to have foam. It is part and parcel of the process when the milk is steamed." He explained condescendingly.

"Details of your incompetence do not interest me," Miranda stated, her lips pursed.

"It is not as if I can ensure not a molecule of milk holds air, given the fact I am using a hot air blower to heat it." Nate ground the words out between his teeth as he glared down at the woman.

Doug groaned. It was clear Nate was about to go on one of his rants and frankly it was the last thing they needed. His friend's heavy-handed attitude was becoming increasingly tiring and the only thing that had stopped him from letting Nate go was his relationship with Andy, as his silent business partner.

"I'll fix it." Andy shot up and marched forward, throwing her apron over her head as she moved around the counter and nudged Nate out of the way with her hip. Leaning close, she hissed at him. "Since you apparently can't treat our customers respectfully, get out. You had your final warning last week, Nate."

Andy watched him stomp away, slamming his way into the kitchen and winced as the door leading to the alleyway out back hit the wall with a resounding crash.

Turning to the older woman, she offered a tentative smile. It had been almost a week since she'd last seen Miranda and the sight of her still took her breath away. "I will get your large, no-foam latte, Miranda, with the extra shot." Andy took the cup Miranda had been given and frowned. It was distinctly lukewarm. "Hot? She asked.

Miranda nodded. "Yes." She licked her lips. "Please." The word came out hesitantly.

Andy nodded once before she turned to the espresso machine and began to grind the beans. She heard Doug step behind her, telling Miranda the coffee was on him and providing her with a refund and the promise of she came again there would be another coffee and a muffin on them too.

Doug's generosity was sometimes a hindrance but in this instance, Andy had to agree with his actions to appease the woman waiting.

Concentrating on steaming the milk, without creating too much foam, she sighed and her shoulders slumped dejectedly. She understood it was time she and Nate parted ways. When her writing had taken off and she'd been given the advance for her book, he had become upset she'd invested in Doug rather than him. He wanted a restaurant desperately, but she'd had no interest.

The coffee shop had always been Doug's dream, and he had an MBA to back him up. Other than writing, Andy's greatest joy was coffee. From growing the beans to the roasting process, then the drinking of it, she was hooked.

Pouring the milk, she once again used a spoon to stop the foam from forming before turning to the counter and catching Miranda's eye. She placed the cup down carefully and couldn't stop her smile from forming when she caught sight of the hint of pleasure blazing from the depths of blue. "I hope it meets your approval," Andy told her softly.

Miranda hummed, her eyes never leaving Andy's. "Acceptable." She proclaimed.

Blushing, Andy placed a lid down firmly on the top of the cup. "Well..." She trailed off when Miranda picked the cup up and moved out of the shop. "...holy shit."

"You know who that is, don't you?" Doug asked her. Andy shook her head, she didn't have a clue who the beautiful woman was, and she didn't much care. "Miranda freakin' Priestly." Doug crowed. "Here, in our little shop. The Queen of Fashion, the Devil in Prada."

"Don't call her that," Andy exclaimed hotly. "She seems nice." She amended softly. "Maybe just a little lonely." Her gaze roamed to the street, where Miranda tapped her foot impatiently until a car double-parked at the curb.

"Oh shit, you like her." Doug grimaced. "You realise she's straight, right? I mean you only have to glance at Page Six to see she's in the middle of a divorce and has every eligible bachelor in the city after her."

Andy frowned as she watched the editor step gracefully into her Towncar. Turning to look as Doug, she sighed. "It's not that I'm unaware that she's way out of my league, you just have to look at her to see that." She shook herself from her thoughts. "Anyway, I best go deal with Nate, God knows what damage he'll do otherwise. Will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine, Andy. I called Lily in and she'll be here soon." Doug pulled her into a loose embrace. "You know where we are if you need us and if things get rough at home, there's always the couch in the office since you insist you can't crash at with me and Lily."

Andy sighed again. It had been an offer they had made multiple times when Nate was at his most difficult. "I'll think about it." She stated to appease her best friend.

**xxx**

Miranda woke up gasping for air. Once again she had dreamt of dark, expressive eyes, looking up from between her parted thighs and with full, luscious lips on her throbbing clit.

The dreams were simply divine, if somewhat unexpected. But if truth be told, from the first moment she had glanced up and caught those eyes, after seeing the message written on the lid of the cup she held, it was as if she had been sucker-punched.

She wondered what was it about that woman, the barista, that held her captive. She was surrounded by beautiful women daily, who were better dressed and vastly more suitable should she decide to take that risk and enter a same-sex relationship.

Knowing she wouldn't get any sleep, she glanced at the clock and groaned. It was only 4 am and she wasn't due in the office until after she had met with her legal team, once again.

Moving from under her duvet, she stalked to her ensuite, unfastening the buttons on her shirt as she walked and letting it drop behind her. Her pyjama pants followed, with her pushing them down over her hips and kicking them away.

Setting the temperature on the shower to cold, she stepped under the jet and scolded herself fitfully, as if telling her subconscious how inappropriate her dreams were, would stop them.

Turning the temperature up, she wallowed under the warmth, taking the chill from the initially cold shower from her bones. She washed and rinsed her hair before adding conditioner and stepping away from the spray to let it sit.

Making a snap decision to take Cassidy and Caroline to Morning Kick for breakfast before having Roy take them on to Dalton, she realised breakfast out would be a change for them, and somewhat of a treat.

Things had been hard on them all since Paris but life had begun to return to some semblance of normality and Page Six were finally leaving them alone.

Yes, she would take her twins to her new favourite coffee house and if she was lucky, she would get to lay her eyes on the smiling brunette who haunted her dreams and was certain she would find the brunette less appealing.

She frowned, realising she had no idea what the younger woman was called.

Shaking the thought away, telling herself the young woman's name was unimportant, she focussed on the meeting with her attorney and the fact they would be finalising her divorce.

**xxx**

Andy was stunned when a beautiful pair of twins stormed into the cafe just before 7 am and proceeded to giggle at the board behind her. On it, she had drawn a rather good, if she said so herself, imitation of Snorlax from Pokemon and underneath it proclaimed it "Current Feels".

The weeks had been busy, with her ending her four-year relationship with Nate and kicking him out of their shared apartment. The last thing she'd heard, from mutual friends, was that he had interviewed for a job as a sous-chef in Boston and was heading up there.

The loss of Nate from her life was no big deal. In all honesty, things were far easier without him. The only inconvenience now was the fact she needed to work extra hours to afford the rent, which ate into the time she had set aside to write her second book.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, she looked down at the two little redheads. "What can I get you?" She asked.

The slightly taller of the two glanced up and beamed at her and she returned the smile with a bright one of her own. "A large, extra-shot, frothy coffee, without the froth, extra hot and two not coffees, please."

Andy giggled, amused they had taken the sign outside the shop literally. "So a large, hot, no-foam, triple latte and two hot chocolates?"

"Isn't that what she said?" The smaller twin deadpanned as she rolled her eyes dramatically.

Andy rolled her own eyes in response but her smile widened imperceptibly as the bell over the door chimed and Miranda Priestly walked in. "So beautiful." She whispered breathlessly. "Anything else?" She asked, shaking herself and focussing back on the twins.

The twins conferred, the muttering between them indecipherable. One of them, the smaller one, nodded and the other, taller one, once again spoke. "A blueberry muffin, jelly-filled donut and mom will have the cinnamon bun." She turned to Miranda and offered her a happy smile. "We ordered you a latte and a cinnamon bun. Is that okay?

"That sounds perfect, Cassidy," Miranda told the little girl. "Now, why don't you and Caroline find us a seat while I pay..." She glanced at Andy, her left eyebrow rising as she regarded her questioningly.

"Andy." Andy offered her name easily but grew, dismayed when Miranda pursed her lips. "Uhm, I mean..."

"That's a boy's name." The taller twin, Cassidy, scoffed before leaning close. "Mom doesn't like nicknames." She whispered. Grabbing her sisters hand, she pulled her deeper into the shop towards a free booth.

"It's Andrea. My name I mean." Andy fumbled. "But everybody calls me Andy." She finished lamely, cursing herself for stuttering incoherently like an idiot.

Miranda pulled her card from her purse and gestured for Andy to take it. "Well, Andréa..." She paused for effect as Andy waved the offer to pay away. "As you will come to realise, I'm not just everybody." She offered a fleeting smile before turning away and moving towards her daughter's, her hips swaying provocatively.

Andy sighed and turning towards the espresso machine, started to work quickly to get the few early morning orders out and asking herself just what it was about Miranda Priestly that threw her world off its axis.

Glancing over her shoulder, Andy saw Miranda tapping furiously on her cell, her lips curled with disapproval, while her daughter's leaned close together, talking together as they watched her intently while she prepared their drinks easily.

**xxx**

Miranda was stunned as three large mugs followed the pastries they'd ordered, placed on the table by the none other than the young woman herself. Two of the drinks held an excessive amount of whipped cream, marshmallows and a chocolate syrup drizzle, while her mug held a heart drawn in the centre of her latte with the steamed milk.

Looking up into the dark eyes, she saw the hint of sadness in their depths and wondered about it.

"Aren't you joining us?" Caroline asked.

Miranda was surprised. "Bobbsey, why would you think that?" She blurted.

Cassidy smirked. "You could be friends, and then you would always get the perfect heart coffee."

Her daughter's reasoning was beyond her grasp and she frowned, wondering what the hell they were playing at.

Andrea, luckily, seemed just as flummoxed. "I have to get back to work now, but thanks for the offer." She started to step away.

Caroline's voice had her stalling. "When's your break?"

Andrea turned and grinned. "After nine. I think you'll be in school by then." Her smile widened. "Enjoy your not coffee." Offering a playful wink, she continued to move between tables towards the front counter.

She continued to frown at her daughter's. "I don't know what you think..."

"You like her Mom and you're curious about her." Caroline offered. "You were pleased to see her."

"Usually you wouldn't care if someone introduced themselves by a silly name, but you didn't like it when Andy did it," Cassidy explained. "You gave her your Runway look." She shuddered.

"Bobbsey's, I..." Miranda faltered.

"It doesn't matter that she's a girl," Cassidy told her.

"We just want you to be happy." Caroline confided.

"And Stephen and dad didn't make you happy." Cassidy continued.

"But you smiled at her when you came in, and you like her coffee or you wouldn't come here." Caroline finished.

"It is rather close to my attorney's office." Miranda was flustered. Was it truly that obvious.

"It's not obvious, you know," Caroline assured as of reading her mind.

Cassidy nodded her assent. "But we know you better than anyone in the world."

"You drink coffee from Starbucks, not from little coffee shops like this," Caroline stated, sipping her drink and humming. "Though this not coffee is yum."

Cassidy closed her eyes and hummed too as she took a dainty sip of her hot chocolate. "Oh, you're right, Care. So good."

Caroline smiled happily. "That's what I said, Cass." She glanced at her. "If you like her, you should ask her out for coffee, mom. What's the worst that can happen?"

"She could say no," Miranda whispered. "She is so young and rather pretty but I..."

"You're pretty too, mommy." Cassidy declared. "Anyone would be lucky to date you."

"And Andy doesn't just think you're pretty, she called you beautiful." Caroline pretended to swoon as Cassidy giggled into her mug.

**xxx**

Andy sat at the small corner table she preferred, her pen dancing over the page of her journal as she wrote quickly, getting her thoughts onto the page in front of her.

 _You would think working in a coffee shop worthy of any Friends reference would do wonders for my dating life but by investing in this job, I lost my boyfriend._ _But if there's anything I've learned from it is that coffee is best served with a side of love._

_What I have learned is all I needed to score a date, with the most beautiful woman in the world, was to offer a cup of java to her exact specifications. That along with a tastefully selected literary pick made it simple enough._

_And yeah, if you believe that, you'll believe anything._

_I can't quite believe I have a date, with Miranda Priestly, tonight. Seriously, when she handed Doug the folded ten-dollar bill, a tip for my service, he'd nearly popped it into the jar we share, until he spotted the cell number, written in a fine-tipped red pen, across the bill along with my name and the directive to call her._

_I had just one option. I had to answer her summons._

_The call was awkward, with me stuttering into my cell like a fool, while she was cool, calm and collected and telling me to be ready for dinner at seven sharp and to send my address. Gathering my wits, I insisted on a coffee date, with the potential to move onto dinner. I asked if she would join me at the cafe._

_I have my reasons, Miranda_ _is a classy woman and the last thing she needs to see is the shabby Lower East Side walkup I currently live in and any dinner she organises is sure to be in a place way above my current finances._

_Now I wait, amidst those people who sit in this shop after their workday is over, whiling away the time until she arrives. I know she will be pro..._

"Andréa." The unique way Miranda said her name shook her from her writing and looking up in surprise, she found the silver-haired woman stood beside her. Glancing at her watch she saw it was fifteen minutes to seven.

"You're early," Andy exclaimed.

Miranda blushed and glanced at the journal on the table before raising her eyes to meet hers. "Mm, perhaps. I forget that not everyone is used to my specific quirk of being fifteen minutes early." She blushed even harder, her cheeks almost glowing. "May I sit? I ordered coffee."

Andy nodded willingly. If Miranda wanted coffee she would have it. "I'll just go and..." She made to rise.

"No, no. The other girl will handle it, I'm sure." Miranda insisted, placing a hand on hers. "Please," she whispered. "Just relax and finish your writing."

"You sure?" Andy asked nervously.

"Mm, yes." Miranda ran a finger along her lips.

Andy glanced down quickly, twirling her own between her fingers before continuing.

_...mpt._

_I know I'm a die-hard romantic and have spent countless years binge-watching romantic comedies with Doug. Yet my favourite thing to do on my time off, when not writing, is to head off to one of my favourite obscure coffee shops and read whatever book I have on the go to my heart's content while my cappuccino remains untouched._

_Perhaps it's true that people can find love in hopeless places. Like in one of my all-time favourite tropes, I think I've fallen in love, over coffee, and it's rather unexpected._

Andy closed her journal with a sigh and glanced up at the woman at the forefront of her musings as two coffees were placed on the table between them.

"You know," Miranda started. "I like to think I'm an optimist. I have hope, I live on it."

"And what do you hope for?" Andy was curious.

Miranda smiled softly. "Right now, that we can put any nerves aside and simply enjoy getting to know one another over coffee and then dinner."

"I think I'd like that, very much." Andy breathed.

"Do you write often?" Miranda asked. Curiosity flared in her eyes as she sipped her coffee.

"Yeah, I've done some of my best writing here. I find the ambience and scent of coffee inspire to me get stuff done." In all honesty, Andy knew she probably sounded ridiculous, but it was the truth rather than a justification for what her parents insisted was her pseudo-bohemian lifestyle.

"Journaling about the random women you meet or..." Miranda left the question hanging.

"No, not just my journal. I am completing my second book. My first was published a few months ago." Andy smiled "I know, I'm the epitome of a cliché, right? Barista by day, author by night."

Miranda sat back, clearly surprised by the admission. "Would I know of this book?"

"Perhaps." Andy grinned ruefully. "It was called For The Love Of Coffee. It did reasonably okay, it didn't hit the New York Bestseller list but I was pleased by the sales and the public response."

"I read that and almost had it reviewed for the lifestyle section of my magazine. It was rather an interesting read. I especially adored the coffee lover's guide to making incredible Espresso and the excerpt including the ten signs that coffee is the love of your life." Miranda leaned forward. "You were right when you said for some of us, coffee was a love affair that was never going to end."

"So a coffee date is ideal then?" Andy mused.

"It is rather acceptable. Now, what about this second book?" Miranda asked.

"Oh, it's sort of on a back burner." Andy frowned, wondering how to explain. "I recently lost my roommate and..."

"The rude young man?" Miranda queried. "I sensed he was perhaps more than a roommate going off his reaction when you dismissed him."

Andy frowned. "We dated, but things had been difficult. He didn't like me investing in this place."

"So you aren't simply a barista by day, author by night." Miranda's lips pursed. "Never dismiss your achievements, Andréa. it is unbecoming. Frankly, confidence is a far more attractive trait, than self-deprecation."

"Okay." Andy squared her shoulders. "Here I am, twenty-five years old, co-owner of a small, specialised coffee shop and published author of one novel, with no idea when a second will be published since I'm pulling extra shifts to afford rent. But none of that matters now I'm living one of my favourite tropes, sharing coffee with 'the one' after our eyes met randomly over a crowded room and she offered a grand romantic gesture, by giving me her cell number as a tip."

Miranda smirked once more and sipped her coffee. "A trope?"

Andy sighed. "Yeah. I'm the perfect candidate to fall in love as my favourite blend of Arabica beans is brewing in the background. In theory, I'm that girl who wears her heart on her sleeve. The story is practically writing itself, right?" She queried.

"No one just falls in love at a coffee shop," Miranda stated quietly, placing her mug down. "You may meet at the coffee shop, have your first date there even, but love, no. Love happens over time."

"But it's called falling in love because it can be so sudden and beyond our control." Andy declared. "True it would grow over time if nurtured. It's a little like falling or tripping over something. It often comes at the wrong time and sometimes with the wrong sort of person but it's not a voluntary process."

"I am unable to see how love is simply going to creep itself into a cup of my favourite searing hot latte," Miranda smirked and Andy saw the teasing glint in her eyes. "And I have lived on a diet of caffeine for many years, so by your reckoning, I should have met my soul mate many years ago over my usual triple Venti, no-foam latte."

Andy grinned. "Yes, but the whole falling in love at a coffee shop premise is contingent on the fact one of the two involved carries an air of mystery, alluring enough to encourage a stranger to talk to her. But maybe that's just the romantic in me." She sighed. "I'm an open book, but you..." She paused. "Miranda, I don't think you realise just how enticing you are. People must have been blind not to notice your beauty. Your presence is magnetic."

Miranda turned serious. "I guess what I'm saying is, you can't just sit and wait until love spills onto your lap. I never wanted to wait around for love to come when I least expected it."

"Newton's First Law of Motion right?" Andy asked. Miranda hummed in agreement. "I suppose you're right. Strangers don't normally just sit next to each other and fall madly in love through banter and a spontaneous adventure amidst the quirks of this city. But at the same time, I don't want to say that love doesn't brew at my favourite coffee shop." She smiled softly and raised her mug to the older woman. "You're not the only one that lives on hope."

"Shall we go to dinner now?" Miranda queried. "The twins are waiting for us at the house."

**xxx**


End file.
